Fractured
by Paper Pearls
Summary: The only problem with finding love the first time is having nothing to compare it with, especially when that love is put under strain. A Charlie/Fleur/Bill one-shot set during the war.


**This story was written in response to the Slytherin Corner's prompt of the day for the 26****th**** of February as well as my own challenge – "The Adultery Challenge with a Twist". I'm dedicating this to **_**tat1312**_**, who introduced me to this pairing.**

**OoOoO**

"_Now they know there's no way out,_

_And they're really sorry now for what they've done."_

-James Blunt, 'Wisemen'

**OoOoO**

Their relationship wasn't broken, although she had thought it was at the time.

She truly had.

_Honestly?_

There had never been anyone like Bill in her life, and there had never been a love like theirs either, so it was difficult for Fleur to gauge exactly how wrong or how right things between them were. It wasn't as though she could compare it to past experiences – sometimes, that fairytale of right-first-time romance was less than it was made out to be. Her pride hadn't allowed Fleur to admit her uncertainties to anyone – not to her mother and, in the beginning, not even to herself. This had been her first mistake. No, she was the golden young woman who had found the love of her life; it was too perfect an image for her to spoil. Fleur couldn't ruin it for herself, and she couldn't ruin it for everyone else.

Everyone had wanted a piece of her marriage to Bill, the romance of it, in order to distract themselves from the darkness of the war. The impracticality of the timing only made it seem all the more tempting to the people she had invited, as they could walk away certain that love did conquer all.

_Does it?_

All of that hope and excitement had shrivelled under the clinical light of fear, an animal panic that never went away, not even when she was curled up in the warmth of Bill's arms. Fleur had felt herself being swept along by a current of other people's expectations and the memory of that golden, unsustainable happiness, until she was walking down the aisle. It was only when Bill slipped the ring onto her finger and smiled at her as though she had the power to make all of his worries disappear that Fleur had thought of marriage as binding rather than secure – a contract. She had felt immediately guilty and tried all the harder to look perfect, be the bride of his dreams, because of it.

They had their lovely little cottage.

They had their interesting jobs.

They had their new marriage.

They had each other.

_Really?_

When Fleur didn't feel smothered by the way her life seemed to stretch on out in front of her, a straight and uniform road, she was scared by the fragility of it all. She couldn't break away. She couldn't let Bill, her husband, suffer any more than he already was. When their dream world was under threat, she couldn't shatter it and leave him alone to pick up the pieces.

Bill didn't understand her own kind of loyalty – it was more subtle than the fierce protectiveness of the Weasley clan. His worry for his family ate away at him until there was no laughter in his brown eyes, barely anything of the man she had fallen in love with. There wasn't any room for Fleur's concern for him in their marriage, either.

_Pure selfishness._

She went to the Burrow dutifully, doing her best to ignore Molly's passive aggressive jibes about her relationship with Bill, and faded into the shadows that the war cast over them all. Fleur accepted it – in fact, a part of her was glad of being pushed from the centre of the stage. Her husband didn't notice her. Her family didn't notice Fleur. Only, one person did – one person from his family.

_Charlie. _

Fleur had never given him much thought. He wasn't the love of her life as Bill was, and he hadn't abandoned his family like Percy. He wasn't a prankster like the twins, and he wasn't out _there _somewhere like Ron, fighting beside Harry Potter. Nor was he the only girl, like Ginny.

Due to his life abroad, Fleur had never given much thought to her brother-in-law. It wasn't until he had spoken to her – that casual, fatal first interaction – that she had given him a second thought. And, more dangerous still, another thought after that.

"_You miss it, don't you? France." He reached down and offered her a mug of tea, a curious intensity to his gaze. Slightly uncomfortable, Fleur had looked away and tried not to notice that the rim was chipped._

"_Oui. It is cold here, I think – the weather and the life we must now live. There is so much despair." Carefully, she took a drink of the tea and tried not to wince as it burned her throat. "But you must miss Romania too, I think."_

_He had looked at her with undisguised shock, amazed that his brother's vain wife had come out with anything so insightful. Fleur gave him a wry smile as he tried to cover his surprise, too familiar with the scenario to be angered by it._

"_Yeah, I do. The dragons can wait, but my family – they can't." He had shrugged dismissively, but she could see the sadness that remained in his eyes. Eyes that were so like Bill's._

They had sat together, after that. Fleur had felt comfortable speaking of all of the mundane, passing thoughts that she felt guilty voicing to her husband – they were insignificant, when compared to a war. Everything in their marriage was. Charlie told her about his dragons. It seemed as though his family had long since tired of hearing about them, and although Fleur was less than fond of dragons after the Tri-Wizard tournament, she couldn't help but find the passion with which he spoke engaging.

_Was there anything else about him?_

Charlie had also been able to laugh. Looking back, it seemed like such a small thing. However, as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's forces grew ever stronger, Charlie's warm smiles and rich laughter seemed as immune to the darkness as the dragons that he was so fond of. More than that, he had allowed her to laugh with him. He had allowed her to stop worrying about what could happen, or what was out there, and return to being the girl who had never cared what people thought. And to think that they thought laughter was the worst of the sins between the two of them...

"_Is Bill in?" He had given her a tight smile, an expression that had shown how poor a liar he really was. Charlie had overheard Bill explaining to his mother why he had agreed to overtime, and they both knew it._

_Their eyes met, and Fleur knew that she was being given a choice. No, but he'll be back later – no._

"_He isn't, but you can come in if you'd like." Fleur knew instinctively that he hadn't meant to give in. Charlie stood, frozen, on her doorstep. She gestured helplessly towards the expanse of the shore. "Whether you stay or go, do it quickly. Lingering never makes me feel safe."_

_Wordlessly, he had followed her into the cottage and sat on the sofa. Fleur had wanted to speak, but she couldn't think of where to begin; Are we really going to do this? What's the right way to have an affair? Do you think of me as much as I think of you? Instead, she had sat mutely beside him, the air thick with tension. Charlie drummed his fingertips against his knee._

"_It isn't because you're so beautiful." His expression hadn't changed, and for a moment Fleur wondered if he had spoken at all. Then, he had leant over and kissed her. She didn't know if what he had said was praising or damning her. She didn't care, as long he kissed her again..._

It had been so easy to fall out of her marriage bed and into his strong, bronzed arms. Their affair was so surreal that the rest of the world, the good and the bad, simply melted away. Why would the perfect wife cheat on the perfect husband? What man could betray his brother? None of it made sense, which was why every kiss was so delicious. It was so far from perfect that it felt right, or had done in the beginning. There were moments when Fleur would look at her husband and know that he loved her absolutely. They would stay in her thoughts, poisoning the joy that Charlie brought her.

"_Your heart is still in Romania, I think." She had laughed, teasing him gently._

"_It should be." Charlie didn't smile. He had wrapped a sheet around his waist and climbed from the bed, leaving Fleur to watch as he dressed._

_Were it not for the dreadful truth in his words, Fleur would have told him off for being so morose. She knew, then, that she couldn't keep his heart, because her hands were still wrapped around Bill's._

Even without such moments to catalyse it, Fleur would have liked to imagine that the guilt would have come to her sooner rather than later. It found Charlie more quickly. It danced behind his eyes, taunting her. Then again, he was a kinder person than she was, more substantial – a better brother to Bill than she was a wife.

_How could you?_

Charlie had been stronger than she was. By nature, he was steady and calm. If he panicked, it didn't show. He had held her hand through the storm, and he had known when it was time to let go of it.

_Celebration and carnage – Fleur hadn't understood how the two could fit together, an unlikelier combination than she and Charlie. The war was over. It hardly seemed real._

"_It'll get easier from here." He kissed the top of her head, inhaling deeply. It was unlike Charlie to be sentimental. Fleur leant backwards, supporting herself on her elbow._

"_You're leaving me." Fleur waited for a denial that wasn't to come. He didn't argue._

"_I'm going back to Romania after Fred's funeral." At the mention of his brother, a pained look crossed Charlie's face. Fleur wanted to kiss him, to comfort him, but she didn't think he'd want their affair to taint his memories of Fred. "And you're going back to Bill."_

_She had looked away, ashamed. The light was returning to Bill's eyes, the feeling to his embraces. He had always loved her, only he had been every bit as scared and alone as she had._

It hadn't occurred to Fleur that her husband had known. The cool acceptance had surprised her. In fact, hearing the truth of what she had done fall from his lips so quietly hurt her more than shouting could have done. She didn't want to see the flame of him extinguished, especially not by her own hand.

In Fleur's imagination, the man she had married would have done anything to stop her committing adultery, to keep her for himself. However, she realised that too much sadness remained for Bill to do anything other than cling onto whatever chance of happiness that remained to him. He had lost one brother, and he lacked the strength to hate another as a result.

She could do nothing but try and love him as he loved her – to try and recreate their fairytale romance. Fleur had tired of pain and deceit. She wanted her husband back, because she too needed their fairytale romance. Tarnished as it was, it had never been broken. The war had fractured it and Fleur had damaged it. Not, however, beyond repair. As long as they kept on dreaming together, their marriage could heal.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review. **


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